


Reflections of the Past

by PolarGrizz47



Category: The Technomancer (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Memory Loss, Scars, cataracts, exploration of self, melvin as a kind of dad figure., mentions of torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-17
Updated: 2018-08-17
Packaged: 2019-06-28 15:42:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15710250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PolarGrizz47/pseuds/PolarGrizz47
Summary: Unable to help himself, he creeps closer, peering at the reflection. His gut suddenly gave a twinge of discomfort.





	1. The Mirror

**Author's Note:**

> An exploration of a character I am designing for The Technomancer universe.

Leo hadn't actually seen his own reflection in months. He didn't feel the need to and the work of keeping stray mutants and merchants safe was enough to distract him from the nightmares that lay in wait within the deep reaches of his mind. But as he walks by the old, faded mirror in Dandolo's palace, he freezes.

His breath catches in his throat and he pauses, turning his head to regard the blurry reflection with genuine shock. Unable to help himself, he creeps closer, peering at the reflection. His gut suddenly gave a twinge of discomfort.

A hand reached up slowly, fearfully before finally touching at his face, examining the damage that had been done during years of experimentation. His fingers traced the edges of his milky left eye, the blue of his iris barely peeking through from the growing cataract. He had a scar there too, splitting open his paling eyebrow. He blinked, his hand tracking higher, pushing through his white, messy locks.

Sometimes, Leo had dreams that stirred a quiet, scared part of himself, buried deep within a darkness that he could never quite shed a light on. In those dreams, he had black, well-maintained hair. A grin, a louder voice, a pristine uniform. He could vaguely recall faces of similarly dressed men and women, and sometimes, if he slept too long, they called him by a different name that seemed to just break at the cusp of his awareness.

Vinny... Vince... _Vincent_? He was never too sure.

Leo's lips pulled into a frown and he dragged his hand back down his face, examining the freckles that were starting to appear from too much time in the sun. Another scar on his upper lip, curving up towards his nostril. One creeping under the hairline of his temple, following his cheekbone. That one was deeper, older. Clearly, he'd earned someone's anger once upon a time.

Shame he didn't remember who, though.

He curiously flashed his teeth to the mirror. They were surprisingly straight, save for two metal teeth, each fitted to his upper and lower right canines. He wondered how he got those.

That ugly part of his mind squirms as he tries to think back on his time in Aurora and he shivers, pulling his hand away from his mouth. Maybe he was better off not knowing that bit, then.

A slow exhale, steadying himself. Leo pushed away from the mirror and scratched at the back of his head, ruffling his already messy hair. He looked down at himself, at the old, dusty clothes he wore and the vest uniform that he didn't recognize immediately anymore.

He only vaguely remembers pulling it on with the other technomancers as they were running from the labs... that, and his glove. Despite how much time they'd spent together in that hellhole, he still couldn't recall any of their faces. He wondered if those that survived would recognize him... did _anyone_ else survive, even?

Leo glances down at his hands, one bare and tanned, scars littering his knuckles like white lightning across his skin. His left one was covered by a thick glove, with cables matching that of his vest, though they were aging and cracked, caked in sand and unstable. The color of his clothes was becoming less and less dark the more time he spent out in that arid heat, everything becoming bleached by the sun.

He clenches his hands into fists and continues on down the hallway, trying to loosen his jaw some. The past wasn't going to help him.

Leo had a job to do anyway, merchants needed help safely crossing the sands and he was the still the best defender this side of the valley.

He welcomed the distraction in stride, not looking back at that damn mirror, sitting innocently in the hallway.


	2. The Howl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought I'd just use this as my 'dumping ground' for Leo fics!!

Something is not right.

He can sense the discomfort and the sorrow pouring off of the usual cheerful city as he steps off his Ostrich. He gives the tired thing a pat on the side of its long, oily neck, and takes the riding harness off of it before allowing it to join the other flock that belongs to the mutants of Noctis.

They said they could never repay him for saving their lives and he had only shrugged. To him, giving him a loyal steed and the company on occasion was more than enough.

Leo moves through the city with his usual purpose, a few merchants wave at him, offer him food even for his past deeds, but he merely shakes his head and promises 'later.' He needed to get into that palace.

The guards out front let him by with a slow nod, looking at his sun-bleached uniform as if they suddenly recognize it. His nose scrunches as he walks in, the scent of incense was always a bit too strong for his tastes. It is dimly lit, and strangely quiet.

The usual whispers of the Prince's group were absent. Instead, he hears a low murmur, familiar and yet ghost-like whispers caressing his ears. Leo freezes in the doorway, looking into the grand room with a spike of panic stabbing him.

The dogs in the back of his mind snap against the chains, pulling tight, growling into the panic that dissolves within his bloodstream. His mind recoils at the memories, at the matching uniforms of Abundance standing around, at the staffs, at the gloves, the metal circlets --

He feels like an idiot, frozen there in terror as a few of his fellow - could he even call them family anymore - turn to look at him. A few get big eyes, chatter amongst themselves with excitement and worry biting at their tone. He vividly remembers drinking from a cup, the clash of conjoined staffs against marble and metal and -- the tight lasso of Abundance troops, pulling at his neck, stripping him of his suit, leaving his charge dying on his tongue.

Leo stumbles into the door, it creaks under his weight and draws the attention of Prince Dandolo on the steps, talking with another technomancer, his hair beginning to gray and his hands held loosely around a collapsed staff. They both turn and Dandolo addresses him as Leo, while the stranger -- something bites at his memory, dredging up a past that refused to be buried. Voices blur and his world slows, the dogs in his mind are lost and afraid, circling his thoughts as if chasing their tails.

Master Melvin had known him for a long time. Had watched him grow and had trained and nurtured him to the best of his ability, and even a little bit more than the Abundance army wanted of their weapons. He had been young then, small, newly aware of his 'gift' - the curse that collared him to the army forever. By the shadow, he thinks vaguely that he must've thought of the other man as a father, at some point.

The memory wavers in his grasp, and suddenly he's back there.

 _He's small, torn away from his family and placed within the dormitories unceremoniously. He's sobbing his heart out into his pillow, too anxious to fall asleep. There is a quiet knock on the wall. The other recruits aren't asleep, couldn't be with how hard he's been bawling, but the lights are strictly off unless there is an emergency. A weight by his bed, a soft voice, and he_ is roused _enough to make his way down the dark hallway. The man looked tired himself, dark, messy hair and kind, but baggy eyes. But he smiles at him and the child listens dutifully as he explains what happens next and Melvin feeds him a meal that is still warm even though the kitchen was closed hours ago when the men turned in for the night. The crying stops some, but still, the fear lingers, but the older_ mancer _assures that he'll always be there. And he was, throughout his entire training, he could remember going to the man for everything - his triumphs, his troubles, his spare time. It was the closest thing to family he had in that tough dormitory and he held fast to that patient, soft smile like it was his only light in the darkness._

_He could remember them standing at the train station, he'd grown so fast the older man had said, voice thick with an emotion that he had to stamp out when in such close proximity to the other army men. Melvin had reminded him about Master Connor's training, something about the staff twirl, something he had long ago conquered. He wishes he could've hugged the man, told him goodbye in earnest, but he is stuck there on that damn platform, hands stiff at his sides. He remembers Melvin standing there, watching him go, watching the whole train fly by, both of their throats tight. He never waves, merely keeps his hands clasped together, his light eyes focused entirely on the man he had raised, on the man he had helped to send to war._

_A promise goes unspoken between them: I'll be back._

And now, here he is. Looking worse for the wear. They both are. Time has not been a kind mistress.

Melvin makes a sound, a choked up sort of gasp that pulls Leo back into the present. He takes a step down the steps shakily, mouth working dryly until he finally whispers, "Vince?"

The roar is back, the dogs _howl_ at the darkness in his mind and Vince -- _no, Leo_ , he reminds himself, stumbles back, away from the castle. He doesn't remember running, but he's suddenly in the streets of Noctis, sprinting harder than he had in a long time. The air burns his lungs as he tries to outrun the past, covering great distances in the large, pleasant city.

Soon, that voice fades into the background, and the dogs quiet some. They only whine now and paw at him needily, but he shakes off all those thoughts and collapses into the cool, musty sand in the cover of shade. Somehow, he's back at the mutant ostrich pen. He couldn't remember the travel here, it was all a blur.

The image of Master Melvin is stuck in his mind, playing on repeat. The way his eyes lit up, then how his expression fell with understanding, and finally, the way his voice broke on the name that now seemed so foreign to both of them.

He's vaguely aware of his ostrich snuffing at him with a strange, chirring sound rattling out of it. Leo pats at its flank as it flops onto the ground next to him and lays its long, thin neck into his lap. The thick bristles on its face relax some as he absentmindedly pats at it, staring past the few mutants that glance at him curiously, lost in his own thoughts.

-:-

Melvin can't quite catch his breath, sitting there on his knees in the middle of the market. He'd tried to keep up, but Vincent had a head start and a familiarity with the city. That, and Melvin was not near as dexterous as he once was. He blinks at the blood on his palm and curls his fingers into the cut, ignoring the sting.

The pain reminded him that he was _not_ dreaming.

His heart pounds and he stares quietly at the stone under his body, noticing the wet splotches by his knees. The mancer quickly scrubs his good hand over his face, finding it wet and he sucks in a breath, choking on it.

It's hard to breathe and he leans forward, curled into himself, weak with the failure of his past. They had told him that Vincent was killed, slaughtered on the front. And he had believed them - foolishly, like a trained dog.

Another breath, a sob breaking against his teeth. A few merchants stare, but only one man has the guts to approach him. Dandolo's hand falls softly upon his shoulder, despite the static of built up electrical charge that crackles at the contact.

"Melvin," His voice is calm and worried, close to his ear. Those green eyes soften some when the mancer turns his head to regard the Prince, looking lost. "C'mon. Let's get you back to the palace. He'll come back. I promise you," Dandolo soothes, helping Melvin to his feet and grabbing an offered rag from a merchant, used to cover the bleeding cut in Melvin's hand.

Melvin stares at the ground as they walk, tears occasionally rolling down his cheeks in fat drops as he replays the scene over and over in his head.

What had he done? How many people had he sent to their death, to their _torture_?

He feels sick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Melvin would be a good dad... don't fight me on this.  
> Also, meet Leo's pet ostrich. Needs a name.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to ask me questions about Leo!!


End file.
